


Red

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Death, Depression, Drugs, M/M, Overdose, Substance Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony can't pull himself together after Steve's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is a suicide fic.

He looked over at the clock: it was five in the morning, the clock’s bright red letters burning into his retinas. He wanted to grab the clock, slam it against the wall and shatter it into a million pieces, but what good would it do? Even if a clock no longer works, it doesn’t mean that time no longer exists. He wished there was a way he could erase that time slot forever, but he couldn’t and he had to live with that. Or not.

When he reached over to the other side of the bed, it was empty. Everything felt empty without Steve there. His heart, his soul, his life… Everything. Now that Steve was gone Tony found his life to be completely meaningless, and he could find no satisfaction in even the most rewarding tasks. Fighting off the scum of the Earth didn’t mean a thing to him now that Steve was dead, and he could care less if anyone lived or died. Sure he loved his fellow Avengers and they loved him in their own way, but the affection they could provide just didn’t give Tony the same feeling that Steve’s had.

Tony stowed himself away in his bedroom for weeks, drinking and staring at the clock. He thought that if he drank enough scotch and stared at the neon red numbers enough, Steve would come back, or at the very least he’d forget about him. But Tony couldn’t forget him or the love they shared while Steve was alive, it was simply impossible. He couldn’t let go of all the wonderful memories they’d made in their five years of wedded bliss, and Tony knew that if he had to go another week without Steve he’d have to be admitted again.

He racked his brain over and over again, trying to figure out what caused the mission to go awry. The more he thought about it, however, the less answers he had. Tony didn’t know why they didn’t find Steve in time, and while he knew that the Avengers had done all they could to rescue the super-soldier, their efforts weren’t enough. Loki won, and Steve had paid the price with his life. He was gone, and he was never coming back.

Tony knew today was the day; there was no turning back now, and even if there was he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Sure he had his doubts that there was something after life, but it didn’t matter anymore. Death no longer scared him; it was living without Steve that gave him nightmares. He’d rather be consoled by the fact that there was nothing in death than to live a life devoid of any love or happiness. Without Steve, Tony had nothing to live for; not for Stark Industries, not for his fellow Avengers, not for his family, and not even for Pepper, one of the best friends he ever had.

He slowly got up from the bed, locked the doors to his bedroom and told Jarvis not to allow entry until his plans were complete. Jarvis tried to talk some sense into Tony, but the genius changed the A.I’s settings, preventing the technological advancement from speaking until the deed was done. Tony had been institutionalized the moment Steve had passed away and he was adamant that he would never go back again. The genius had only been out for a month, and there was no way that anyone would lock him up on suicide watch ever again. He was truly at the end of his rope, and no amount of companionship or therapy would make Tony better again.

A massive bottle of Oxycontin, a bottle of his finest scotch, a fat red marker, and a piece of notebook paper were sitting on his nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the paper and marker, and jotted down a small note. As he wrote, tears dripped down from his eyes and stained the paper, threatening to smear his carefully written letters. When he finished writing, he threw the marker across the room and stared down at his clear, legible writing. Tony knew that this was going to hurt his friends a lot and they’d never understand, but he had to do what was best. There was no way he could continue living this way, and everyone would be better off if he took himself out of the equation. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function… He felt like he was no longer of use to his team and Tony couldn’t take it anymore.

Tony lay down on Steve’s side of the bed, unscrewed the cap of Oxycontin and opened up the bottle of scotch. He loaded his mouth full of the pain pills and swallowed them down with the expensive alcohol, the mixture burning Tony’s throat as it slid down into his stomach. When he finished the alcohol and prescription drug cocktail, Tony settled into the bed and put Steve’s pillow over his face, waiting for the mixture to take him to his final resting place. As he fell asleep, the last thing he saw in his mind were vivid streaks of red dancing around his closed eyelids.

Several hours later Pepper opened the bedroom and found him, his pale, lifeless body covered with bloody vomit and the super-soldier’s pillow. When she rushed over to Tony’s corpse she saw the note on the nightstand. On the note were four words written in bright red marker:

_Take care of Peter._


End file.
